The Unpredictableness of Life
by ItWasOnlyADream
Summary: Lucy has been through enough in her life. Will she get over her past?
1. Trust No One

**Hi everyone.....this is my first chapter! REad it! Please! also, review.( THat was a little boring but this little not thingy hardly matters!)Enjoy!**

Cheetos. I craved the crisp, satisfying crunch, the dusty, orange powder on my lips and teeth. So amazing, with the artificial cheese flavor, I don't care if they'll make me obese or whatever…. I just need cheesy comfort in a place like this.

Yes, you can call me crazy, fantasizing about snack foods at a time like this. _Especially_ in a time like this.

However, nothing, and I really do mean _nothing_, could top the craziness of my past…..I don't know, _life_???

_Come on, Lucy_, I scolded myself. _You broke the law, your parents hate you,_( come to think of it, who doesn't?)_ and now you're going to Camp Green Lake._ _It couldn't get any worse. Yet, all you can think about is Cheetos!!!_ _There are no Cheetos at Camp Green Lake!! Stop dreaming! Snap out of it! _

I would have slapped myself right then and there, but unfortunately, the stupid handcuffs restricted my movement. _Maybe if I could reach the Cheetos bag with my foot......._

Fifteen minutes later, my stuff was scattered all over the floor of the grimy bus, in my attempt to grab the bag with my foot. Everything was probably picking up some rare, horrible disease only found in places like this. What if the next time I touched it, it killed me or something?

By the way, I am not the type of person who complains about everything. I may be a germ phobic, I may be obsessed with Cheetos, but I am not, and I repeat not, one of the glass-is-half-empty people.

The bus (which, come to think of it, seems to contain more dirt than actual metal) hit a bump in the dirt road, scattering all my things even more. My stomach started doing gymnastics, flopping all over in me that made me want to puke.

Crap, crap, crap. I closed my eyes._ Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in…_

Oh, I forgot to mention this, but I get insanely, sickeningly, puke-green-all-over-the-floor carsick. Everybody I know dreads riding in cars with me. _Not here,_ I prayed._ Not here, not now, not ever. Please, I beg of you, I'll be a good person; in fact, I'll be a total saint, just please._

I need some fresh air, but the windows were bolted shut. WTF? Are the authorities worried that delinquents like me are going to escape or something? Hello, even someone as skinny and toothpick-like as me would get stuck. Plus, what kind of person would try to escape on a moving bus, eight feet above the ground?

But still, is a little fresh air too much to ask? Are people like me not worthy of it? Just because we're delinquents, it doesn't mean we deserve to die in the thick, stifling fumes of this bus.

_You're one to talk,_ a voice told me._ You're the last person in the world who deserves anything._

Right now, I wanted nothing more than ( besides Cheetos, of course) to die. You may think I'm some emo suicidal freak, but like I said before, I'm the total opposite. But I really wanted to die right now. Crazy, crazy, crazy.

Everyone who hates me would collapse by my dead body, sobbing, begging for mercy. Meanwhile, I would watch from Heaven, refusing to forgive them. Or would I go to Heaven? Still, Hell couldn't be as bad as Camp Green Lake. But isn't that what everyone says?

Too late.

The sad excuse for a bus lurched to a stop, its tires screeching against the dusty road. I quickly gathered all my things from all over the bus (the guard, by now, had unlocked my handcuffs).

I stood in the aisle of the bus for a second. (Once, a very long time ago, I was scared to death of aisles because my friend told me man-eating tapeworms lived in them, but that's beside the point.)

However dirty and smelly as it was, I suddenly wanted to stay there for unclear reasons. Maybe because it was sort of my only link to home, in a way? Who knows. But at the same time, I wanted to leave, even if Camp green Lake was on the other side.

I was stuck in the middle. What else is new?

"Come on, girlie," The raspy voice of the guard snapped me out of my thoughts. Which, by the way, seemed to be the only thing I could control around here, unfortunately.

As I stepped off the bus and walked toward the main building of the camp, or correctional facility, or prison, whatever it was, I seriously felt like I was melting in the sweltering heat. However impossible I thought it was, it seemed to be hotter. Who knows what else will surprise me today?

I looked behind me. The bus was gone. Now, I could only go forward.

That was my first mistake.

I guess I wasn't watching where I was going, and being the person I am, well, let's just say that I fell in a hole.

Yeah, you heard me correctly. Face first, landing hard on my left hand, and basically everything else horrible. No, I am not one of those wimpy girls that want everyone to feel sorry for me, personally I think those kinds of girls are pathetic.

_Here I am, _I thought, _I haven't even been here five minutes, and I've fallen into a hole. _Smooth, very smooth. I thought I would lose it and start crying right there, but Instead, I sucked it up.

Lying in the dirt, I thought, maybe falling in here symbolizes something? An early grave, maybe? Okay, now I'm officially crazy. Maybe I should have been put in a mental institution instead.

Cautiously, I stood up, dusted myself off. I was pretty much okay, except for-

HOLY BANANAS THAT HURTS SO FREAKIN' MUCH!!!!!!!!

And it did. My left pinkie finger was swollen to the size of, um, whatever you would compare to a swollen pinkie. It really looked disgusting, being all twisted into some unnatural position. Plus, it was as purple as the Converses I was wearing.

_Well, this might be a problem,_ I thought sarcastically. Seriously, thought, how was I going to write? I was left-handed. I didn't even want to think about how the heck I was going to dig holes.

A shadow appeared over me. Yay! Salvation! Maybe the sun got blocked out! Maybe-

Oh. Never mind.

Towering over me was a creepy-looking guy in a cowboy hat. And sunglasses (I somehow knew he was leering at me behind them). Also, he was spitting sunflower seed shells in the hole I was in, and I think he was purposely aiming them at me. In attempt to dodge them, I ran into the side of the hole.

"The only way out is up," The guy said in an accent I could barely understand. "This ain't a Girl Scout Camp." Wow. Some help.

I scrambled out of the hole, only using my right hand to heave myself out. All that time, the cowboy hat guy stared at me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. _How about you try climbing out of a hole with a busted finger?_ I thought. Is he the devil to this hell?

" My name is Mr. Sir," The man said, only with his accent it sounded like," Ma nayme is Mista Sirrrrr."

" Ya wiyll cawl meh thayat, is thayat cleayer?" ("You will call me that, is that clear?"See how hard it is to understand?

I nodded at his request, more out of fear than agreement. Hugging my bag to my chest, I suddenly felt self-conscious. Does this Mr. Sir guy enjoy tormenting sweet, innocent kids like me?

_Sweet and innocent, yeah right,_ a random voice in my head said. I sighed. It was no use pretending.

Mr. Sir took my bag out of my arm, started going through it. My mind wandered aimlessly.

Why am I here? Isn't the guilt punishment enough, knowing you changed someone's life forever? And ended someone else's? Isn't feeling like the cruelest person in the world the worst feeling on the face of this planet? Now everyone hates me, from my parents, Jane, and I can't even describe how _he_ must feel about me. I don't deserve him, those electric blue eyes……so mesmerizing……

I was jolted out of my flashback when Mr. Sir tosses my backpack back to me. With a little annoyance I saw that he had taken the Cheetos. " Here ya go."

Then, _another _weird man walked through the door.

"WELCOME!!!" Wow. Only one word and he was way too enthusiastic for my taste. "I am Mr. Pendanski, and I am your counselor."

Black beard, bald. Sunburnt nose. Huge smile plastered on his face, with two rows of yellow teeth. Hmmmmm….He looks like a cross between a clown and a pirate.

" You've made some mistakes in your life," he exclaimed," But I know you are a good person!" _Ha, ha, funny joke._

Ok, this guy is really beginning to get on my nerves. I've only met him a minute ago! What is it with the whack jobs of this place?

I followed Mr. Whack Job to a row of tents, brown, itchy looking canvas that I was certain they were unsuitable living conditions. " This is your tent," Mr. Whack Job said, gesturing to the farthest one down. " The other campers will be back soon." Then he left.

Oh, good, alone time. I was beginning to think that didn't exist anymore! Flopping down on one of the thin cots, I began to write.

" I'm all over the place, all mixed up. Mr. Pendanski, aka Mr. Whack Job, has some serious issues, not to mention he scares the crap out of me. Mr. Sir is even worse. After all that happened with my dad, I can't trust anyone. Not ever. But the bruises and scars are all still there, as if he'll always be a part of who I am.

Mom, I am so so so sorry. I was being stupid, but I guess you knew that already. I truly didn't mean for Jane to die, despite what you may think. And Ricky. I know you'll never forgive me. You wish I was dead. But to see your face, all twisted up with anger and hostility-at me! All I want is for you to forgive me. I mean, I got sent to Camp Green Lake for it! With all my soul, I'm sorry. "

Tears were flying down my face like raindrops on a car window. If they only knew.

The tent door, or rather the teant flap, was lifted. Scrambling to put my notebook under the mattress of the cot, I thought, it couldn't get any worse.

Once again, I was so, so wrong.

**Was it good? Bad? Tell me, or I'll be sad.**

**Hey, that rhymes!**


	2. When In Doubt, Be Quiet

**Chapter 2 is here! It's a little short but I hope you like it!**

Looking back, I guess I shouldn't have been too judgemental about everyone. But still, I can't help it, because I've learned not to trust anyone too easilt.

" _Lucy."_

_Uh-oh. What now?_

" _Come here."_

_Most people would think of their dad as a strong, brave, yet loving person. Not me. I dread coming home from school every day, because of what he does to me._

" _LOOK at me when I speak to you!!"_

_I cower, ducking my head, preparing for the worst. What will he do to me this time? At best, he'll slap me across the face a few times. At worst, I don't even want to think about it._

_WHAM! He shoves me into the wall. I bump my head, determined not to show my weakness. I grit my teeth, trying not to cry out in pain._

_Too late. I'm wailing, but my dad seems amused by this. _

" _This. This is not pain. How does this hurt?"_

_I don't respond. I've been through this before. When in doubt, be quiet. _

_He grabs my arm. I know that the next day, there will be a line of round, purple bruises there, he's gripping it so hard. _

_He lets go. I know he's not done with me yet, it's just that Mom has come through the door. Suddenly, my dad is composed, the image of a perfect family man._

" _Hey, honey. What were you two doing?" Mom says._

" _Oh, I was just helping Lucy with her homework." Lies. Lies. But I don't say anything, because then I know it will be worse tomorrow._

That flashback is so painful every time I think about it, I can still remember every syllable, every slap, every word, every lie. I would cry right then and there, but just then, a group of guys come through the tent door.

The first few looked like normal, perfect strangers, and they introduced themselves as X-ray, Armpit, Squid, Caveman, Zero,and Magnet. Instantly, my brain went into overdrive. Is this normal? Do guys like this normally have names like this? What if they're out to kill me? What if….What if……

Stop it! They will not kill you, you're perfectly fine. Nobody knows you here, nobody knows your past.

Never mind.

At that instant, the one who knew everything about me, the one who hated me, the one who wanted me to die, appeared in my life again. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Which, right now, are filled with disbelief and hate and who knows what else.

" Lucy?"

" Ricky?"

" What are you doing here?" I ask.

" What are you doing here?"

" You know what I'm here for," I say quietly." You were there."

For a moment, he almost looks sympathetic, but that quickly vanishes. Now it's back to hate, back to normal life for us, except we're both in a correctional facility.

" Hey, you and Zigzag know each other already!" X-ray exclaims, oblivious to the tension between us."

" Yeah, " I say. " We do."

**Constructive criticism is appreciated! THanx**


	3. Like No One Else

**I'm finding that it's way easier for me to write shorter chapters more often, rather than a long one less often. THey just turn out better that way........**

**Capitulo tres!( Chapter three)**

I was hypnotized by him, and I almost fell under the former spell, that he was perfect, that he didn't do anything wrong. But I caught myself. I will not let that happen again.

"Hey," Zigzag said to me. He glanced around, and then his voice dropped to a whisper. "Is everything okay, with your dad and all?"

Oh, he did NOT just say that. _Stop acting like you care! _I've been trying my best to forget everything, now he brings it up again? Thanks a lot. "Why do you care?" I snap, almost lashing out at him. Before I could do anything, though, the dinner bell rang.

I stroll over to the table, not knowing what to expect. Will everyone treat me like, I don't know, an outcast? Will they accept me? Who knows. It hits me that this is exactly like my first day at my new school.

_Loudness, all around me, screams, yells, and everything else. This is the moment I have always dreaded, being branded a loser on my first day in a strange place. I grip my lunch tightly, and walk, as if I have friends I'm going to sit by. _

_Five minutes later: I'm leaning on the side of the wall, pretending to make a call on my phone, while trying to hold back tears. The last thing I want is fore everyone to think I'm a crybaby. This is a nightmare._

"_Hey!" Who was that? They're probably not calling for me, though. I've learned to expect the worst. _

"_Lucy!" Maybe they are yelling at me. The voice is coming from the way other end of the cafeteria. I smile, and walk towards it with a bounce in my step. _

_There's a boy sitting there; tall, with out-of-control blonde hair. A girl's right by him, scribbling something in a notebook. _

"_Um….hi?" I squeak out. Suddenly I'm nervous, self-conscious, and every other uncomfortable feeling in the world. _

"_Hey, Lucy," How does he know my name? "I'm Ricky; this is my twin sister, Jane." Gratefully, I sit down, and start to munch on the Cheetos I brought with me. Somehow, I know that they're not just being nice. Somehow, I know that we'll be good friends. Maybe more._

My heart burns at the memories. Why does everything remind me of him? I can't even say his name. Now, he's sitting right across from me, just like on that first day. I look downward. Suddenly, the food on my plate looks really interesting.

I need a distraction. "I'm not really hungry, does anyone want this bread?" I say. I give it to X-ray.

"You know, nobody's ever offered to give this up," X-ray says, gesturing to the bread. "You're not like everybody else."

You got that right.

I observe that everybody's just eating quietly, even Zigzag, who is normally a pretty talkative person. _Or, rather, he was, I_ thought sadly. I realized that I didn't know anything about him anymore.

Two hours later, I'm in the tent, under the covers (trying very hard not to suffocate from the seemingly toxic fumes of the blanket. When was the last time they washed these?). My hand is cramping up from writing so fast, but I need to let it out.

"I used to think life was so simple. As usual, I was wrong. I'm losing control of everything I have ever known. Not to mention it was my worst nightmare to have Zigzag here. He's the only one who knows about my past. I used to think that I was going to start over here, and I can't do that anymore. He's a constant reminder of the past, and I can't take it. One day down, about eight million more to go."

I slide the notebook and pen under the bed, or rather, cot, and tell myself that I need to get some sleep. After all, I'll be digging tomorrow.

**R-E-V-I-E-W! **


	4. Disappearing Cliche

**Chapter 4 is ready! Btw, this story is based off the book, not the movie, so stuff that is wrong from the movie; just remember it's based off the book. Sorry it took so long; it's just that I lost the original copy of this chapter, so I had to type it again from memory. **

When I was about five, I thought that I had the perfect family. You know, the cheerful, huggy, I-love-you type. Dad was the type to slave away in an office all day, then come home, always glad to see us, while Mom waited by with fresh-baked cookies. I guess you could say we were sort of a cliché of what everybody wants their family to be like.

Well, that 'perfect family' began to crumble away. Dad started drinking more. He'd come home from work, his suit and tie askew, slurring every word, basically acting the complete opposite of what he was before. I didn't know who this monster was, and I'd lie in bed every night, wishing for my daddy to come back.

He never did.

It's unclear exactly why he started taking everything out on me, I just knew that he was hitting me and treating me like crap. I was only six!

" WHY, Daddy, WHY?" I'd choke and sob, curl up in a pathetic little ball at his feet. "Don't hit me!" He would never listen. I was being slammed and pushed against the wall, and his powerful fists would slam into me, and leave huge bruises on my arms.

Mom sort of faded away in the background, and became a mere observer, too afraid to do anything. She just simply watched on the sidelines, with a blank, faraway expression, while I got beaten. Before, I thought that she was on Dad's side, now I know that she was trying to protect herself. Which is still kind of selfish. I didn't know who to turn to. In fact, I don't know if I'll ever know.

**********

"WAKE UP!!!!"

I don't need to. I've been awake all night, unable to fall asleep for obvious reasons. My thoughts had been swirling around and annoying me to the point of when I actually wanted to dig holes. At least then, I could concentrate on the physical pain instead. That was one thing I was used to.

I put on my orange jumpsuit (I was also wearing shorts and a tank top underneath it). Walking over to the shovel shed, I grabbed the first one I saw. I also took one with a strip of orange tape around it to give to X-ray, because he told me himself the night before that his shovel was special.

I felt sort of awkward, although I don't know why, aside fromthe obvious fact that I was the only female here.

Lack of sleep doesn't affect me at all.

I grabbed seven shovels, figuring that I owed everyone something, even if I didn't know what it was. Might as well do something useful, and I could start by getting shovels for everyone.

I lifted them up, hoisted them over my shoulder, and grimaced at the weight. Who knew that these could be so heavy? I staggered over to the tent.

Caveman saw me. "Hey, don't kill yourself yet. You didn't have to do this. Let me help you." He took the shovels out of my hands.

I wanted to hug him. Nobody had been this genuinely nice to me since, well, I can't remember, it was so far back. "Thanks," I said, massaging my still-purple finger. I had gotten used to it by now, though it hurt like hell every time I tried to write, to eat, you name it. Yet, nobody noticed, or cared, enough realize that I was injured. Not to sound like a complainer or anything like that.

X-ray, Squid, and all the others came out of the tent, and I just knew they were thinking,_ One more hole closer until I get out of here, _from the sluggish expressions on their faces. They spotted me, with the pile of shovels at me feet, caressing my finger.

I handed each boy a shovel, not making eye contact with Zigzag. That was fine with me. Nobody else said anything. Well, nobody except for X-ray.

"Hey, thanks," he said with a grin. I had this feeling he was going to be some sort of politician when he grew up. "You're an angel."

Out on the vast, dry, dusty landscape around me, I was not looking forward to how hot it would become. I should have been worried about digging, but all I could think about was,_ why don't they let us wear sunscreen? Or at least sunglasses? Hello, skin cancer!_ Yes, I knew I was acting stupid about this. I overreact on just about everything, if anyone hasn't noticed.

I didn't want to ask for help, so I observed what everyone else did. _So you stick the shovel in a random spot in the ground, dig, dig some more, and hopefully you'll have dug a hole five feet deep and five feet wide, if you haven't died of heat stroke, exhaustion, or fainting first. _

So. I better get started, then.

It would be super boring to describe how exactly I was digging my hole, and I don't want to bore anybody by being like, _and then I stuck the metal blade of the shovel into the Texas dirt, and lifted it out of the hole. I placed it on the ever-growing pile above me. Then, I dug the shovel into the ground again. _Repeat. Again and again and again. Yawn.

The water truck screeched to a stop by our set of holes. I wanted to get in line, but there was one minor problem. I couldn't get out of my hole. Just like on my first day here. I would have yelled for help, but I had no voice left in me.

A long shadow fell over me, then, I saw that someone was offering their hand to help me out. I grabbed it, and was pulled out of the hole, grateful for the help. That is, until I saw whose it was.

"Zigzag?"

Well, I thought. This is a little awkward. Why was he helping me? I stared at him, making contact with his blue eyes. Suddenly, he looked like he regretted helping me.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead, and, rolling up my sleeves, strolled over to the water truck. Saying that it's hot here is the understatement of understatements. I wouldn't be surprised if I got heat stroke or something.

I shuffled my way through the line, keeping my eyes on the ground because otherwise, I would be blinded by the sun. Was it really only ten o'clock?

When I got my lunch and water, they felt like they weighted about a thousand pounds each. I flopped down next to my hole, full of mixed emotions. Did I feel proud? Angry? Or sad? Who knows.

" Hey." Squid said, towering over me.

I looked up at him, unsure what to think. Squid seemed like, I don't know, someone I should stay away from. I've never said a word to him; he's never said anything to me. I was fine with that.

"Hey." He says again, louder. I get irritated. "I have a _name,_ you know." I told him.

"I know that. But, as you probably figured out, nobody ever gets called by their real names here."

Why, yes, in fact, I knew that. But if you're going to talk to me, call me something. It's the least you can do.

"Anyway, that's not why I came over here." Squid goes on. He points to my arm, with my sleeve rolled up, and asks, "No offense, but where did those bruises come from?"

_No offense basically means, "I'm going to insult you, but don't get mad."_ I thought. But too bad, because I was. Big time. It may not sound like it now, but I've learned to somewhat control my actions. Not his time, though.

"WHY YOU-" I sputter. "FOR YOUR INFORMATION, I-, I-" I didn't finish my sentence. How could I? What could I tell him, and everybody else who was listening in shock? So I did what anybody would do in this situation. I bolted.

**Sort of a cliff-hanger like ending, who knows what she'll do next…………………….**

**Review, review, and once again, review. THanx**


	5. What Happened?

**You know the hard-to-explain feeling you sometimes get when you're writing? That you're just**_** in the moment**_**? When everything you write turns out way better than you expected? That was me for this chapter.**

**Thanx to everyone who reviewed, especially fang1108, your comments made it so much easier for me to write the beginnings for every chapter, to get me started. Even if you didn't know it. Even if it didn't seem like your reviews would do that for me. **

**Sssooooooo……………..**

Crap, crap, crap. Why did I react like that? Any normal person would answer, well, like a normal person. Then again, I'm not normal. It's just that I get unbelievably defensive when it comes to things like this. It's like a few years ago, when someone in my school asked the very same question. Guess who got sent the principal's office?

Anyway, I'm sort of stuck right now………I can't go back to the holes, I can't go to the wreck room( full of sweaty, irritated guys? No thanks.) So that leaves the tent.

It was still boiling hot inside, even though I was sheltered from the elements. It was dark, but not too dark. As I sat down on my cot, I reached under the mattress and slipped out my notebook.

"The first time was when I was six. I had just come home from my first day of school, happy (remember when everyone was little; we thought school was the best thing ever? Good times. I miss them.).

He came home; ragingly drunk………………I can't even write what happened next. All I know is that he was the one who got me into this mess. Thanks, Dad."

I'm the person who cried for a week after seeing Titanic. I'm the person who is depressed after someone kills an ant. But now, I didn't cry. I just sat there, frozen, with all the pent-up emotions in me.

Sorry for being all heavy; I just don't know what to do.

At that moment, guess who walked in? Yep. Good old Zigzag.

He entered the tent, paused when he saw me. I noticed that he had a cut on his lower lip. Without thinking, I asked, "What happened?"

"_What happened?"_

_His voice was filled with concern, sadness, and the tone that he would get revenge on the person who made me cry._

_I was crying, there was no denying that. Not just pretty little tears; big, hiccupy sobs that make people turn their heads. Why was I like this? This was supposed to be the best night of the year. The dance committee had gone overboard; decorating every inch of the gym so that it looked like a magical ballroom. Food was catered by the most expensive restaurant in the city. I was supposed to be enjoying myself. _

_I answered him, trying to make my words heard through my gasps and sobs. "Logan-, he, - he,-was kissing,-someone,-else."_

_Logan and I had gone to the dance together, and we had been going out for only a week. Still, I was heartbroken. _

_Ricky nodded, understanding every bit. I knew he wasn't going to say anything; he was just going to listen. _

_He leaned in closer. "Logan's a jerk," He whispered softly. Then, before I could do anything, before I could protest, he was kissing me, right in front of anyone who could have been watching. _

_I should have known it would end up like this; amazing friends like him often turn out with a fairy-tale ending. And I was fine with that. _

"What happened?" I said again.

He faced me, startled. "I, um, cut it on the edge of the canteen."

I narrowed my eyes. How do you cut your lip on blunt plastic? "So everyone just ignores it?"

"Pretty much. There's not really any first aid here, if you know what I mean." Then, he laughed awkwardly. And it was awkward. Suddenly, Zigzag went right back to ignoring me, acting like I didn't exist, in a split second.

Well then.

I looked down at the notebook in my hands, and panicked. Oh, why didn't I hide it? Or something? Now Zigzag would find out everything…………….

Wait. That's not possible, since he _already_ knows everything about me. Even about my dad. Then, I instantly relaxed. What _didn't _I tell him? Nothing.

Zigzag seemed to be staring at my hands, specifically, the black-and-white-speckled composition book. He was probably thinking something on the lines of:_ nothing's changed, she still writes in that._

With an almost wry smile, I shoved the notebook back under the cot, daring him to do anything to it.

**I know, I know, it's really short. But don't worry, I'll be back soon. In the meantime, why don't you click on the little button below and write something about this story?( hint, hint ****)**


	6. Things That Amaze Me

**I've been waiting for the right moment to put in The Dream; it's finally here..**

**I always feel like I have to say something else here……..hmmmm….oh what the heck, just read on.**

"_Lucy! Stop!" _

_He runs to me, his blue eyes begging. "You're in no condition to drive."_

_I push past him. What does he know? I practically run out the house, across the yard, and to my car. I have to hurry, because I have to get home before Dad finds me missing. _

_I'm dragging Jane with me. We have to leave. Now._

_So what if my head spins? So what if I'm slurring? I feel happy, invincible, on top of the world. I didn't drink that much. I can do whatever I want._

"_Trust meeeeeeeee." I tell him. "I'll be fine."_

_He tugs me away from behind the wheel. "Don't."_

_One word, so many different meanings. I ignore all of them. "Jane," I command loudly. "Get in the flippin' car!"_

_I feel like I can conquer the world. Nothing can stop me. Especially not him._

_I drive recklessly through the quiet neighborhood streets; Ricky's eyes are as wide as saucers and even in the moonlight, his skin is pale. He looks terrified. Why? This is so much funnnnnnn!! I'm having the time of my life!_

_I'm surely driving at illegal speeds now, but I'm still in control. Hahahahahhahaha……why did he try to stop me again? He knows nothing! Absolutely NOTHING!_

_Suddenly I lurch forward. The car hits a tree, and the airbag explodes in my face. Jane screams loudly, but her scream is cut short. _

_Silence._

_And blood._

_Everywhere._

_I'm uninjured, so is Ricky, so where can it be coming from? I whip my head around to the backseat, definitely not giddy and happy as I was before. _

_Jane. Oh, Jane._

_She's slumped down, blood rushing out of several lacerations in her forehead._

"_Jane." I whisper, touching her arm._

_Nothing. "JANE!"_

_I'm shaking her violently now, maybe she'll wake up and everything will be fine. But I feel a deep pit in my stomach when I realize that she's gone._

_No._

_No. HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED? WHAT KIND OF SICK JOKE IS THIS???? I burst into tears, and I bang my fists over and over on the seat. _

_What have I done?_

I wake up in a cold sweat, panting like a dog. Why? Because it's been a while since I had That Dream.

Except it wasn't really like a dream. It was just real life, playing over and over again in my head.

I can't sleep. I slip out of bed and pad outside silently. Looking at the vast expanse of navy blue sky, I actually have something positive to say for this place. Somehow, it looks all serene, and hard to explain, you know?

I'm about to turn back, but something catches my eye.

On the side of the tent, a figure is curled up, hunched over on the ground. He's holding a photograph, and he seems to be _talking _to it. And crying.

My mouth hangs open, and I blink a few times out of shock.

Why?

Because the figure is Zigzag.


End file.
